


With A Faery, Hand In Hand

by LilyChenAppreciationSociety



Series: Fair Lovers Three [1]
Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Black Rose Triad, F/M, Fluff, How Do I Tag Threesomes, M/M, Multi, No Context Whatsoever, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6392386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyChenAppreciationSociety/pseuds/LilyChenAppreciationSociety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To the waters and the wild"</p><p>Kieran, Mark, and Cristina swim in the ocean and smooch. Everything is fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With A Faery, Hand In Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Love this ship, though my meager writing cannot do it justice. 
> 
> Originally posted to; (http://marcythewerewolf.tumblr.com/post/141753208844/)
> 
> "Some Mark/Kieran/Cristina for Downworlder week. I think it’s ship day. I have kind of lost control. "

Mark’s voice was like the crack of thunder in the calm night air, against the distant murmur of mundane traffic and the hiss of the waves. Kieran still welcomed it.

“Why are you out here?” He sounded more confused than cross and that was promising.

Kieran pulled his legs closer to his chest and shrugged. “I grew tired of having to sneak to your window. I like the open air better.”

“Well now the entire west facing side of the Institute can see you.” Mark reprimanded. He sounded too Shadowhunter for Kieran’s tastes when he scolded. Even worse, sometimes he sounded too much like Gwyn.

“Then let’s move.” Kieran said easily, as if the solution were that obvious. “Where is your princess?” He almost seemed worried and that was as strange to Mark as the fact that against all sense he and Kieran were still meeting each other. Cristina had been with them first out of curiosity, and because Mark had asked her too, because he wasn’t sure he ought to be with Kieran alone. Then things had…. changed and she had stayed because she was wanted. Now being two felt more awkward than being three.

“She was studying in her room.” Mark said. “She’ll might swing by mine later, so we ought to be there.”

Kieran looked stubborn as a mule. “She can find us out here. I am sick of your Institute, Mark. It is like a tomb. A tomb of angels, but a tomb all the same. How do you stand it?”

Sometimes, though Mark wouldn’t admit it, he didn’t. He understood why Kieran wanted to be outside, it was why he found himself on the roof so often, but he also thought the beach was a terrible place for a semi romantic rendezvous.

“We could go on the roof again.” Mark suggested.

Kieran shook his head. “Sitting on a tomb is more palatable than lying in one, but still not a place for joy. Besides, I’ve barely gotten to see your ocean.”

Mark remembered long nights in the Hunt when he had talked about the place where he had grown up, the beach and the desert, the sand and rock and wide expanse of water. Kieran had always been curious about it, not the ocean in general, he didn’t like saltwater, but that part of it that was Mark’s.

Mark looked back to the Institute and it’s dark windows, and decided two figures walking on the beach wouldn’t be a cause for alarm.

“Let’s go then.”

Mark kicked off his shoes and Kieran wasn’t wearing any in the first place, and together they walked the length of the sand barefooted. It felt comfortable, it felt like they could forget everything that had happened.

Kieran stood in the surf and looked at the ocean speculatively, and Mark touched his hand lightly, not wanting to break the safety of the silence.

He had to though when Kieran approached the water with all the determination of a prince of faerie. 

“What are you doing?”

“Swimming.” Kieran said simply. “Come.”

Mark shouldn’t have. He did, rolling up his jeans, and wading after Kieran into the cold ocean. Kieran always looked at ease in the water and after a few minutes of adjustment he settled into the ocean with only a bit of awkwardness, smiling as water soaked the hem of his pale tunic. Mark knew he was sometimes ashamed of his mother, a lowly nixie whose status had not served her son well in the Unseelie Court, but in the water all Kieran’s hangups about his maternal line disappeared.

“It’s too salty.” Kieran complained, but he couldn’t hide his contentment.

“It’s the ocean.” Mark said, “It has to be.” It was night cold, California days were warm but when the sun when down bets were off, but still familiar. This was where he had played with Helen, and then his younger siblings as well. On an impulse Mark fell backwards, let the water embrace him for a minute, then shot back to the surface with his head wet and and his t shirt soaked.

Kieran smiled. “Water to your legs was not good enough for you?”

Mark shrugged, feeling salt water drip into his eyes. “The waves will soak you by inches. Better to get it over all at once.”

Kieran leaned forward, and brush a lock of water logged hair out of Mark’s face. He could have kissed him. Weeks ago he would have. Now… now Mark would have had to lean forward himself, and he couldn’t, not yet.

Footsteps on the beach and a figure out of the corner of their eyes drew their attention, and they both turned to see Cristina coming down towards them. She stopped at the watermark and raised her voice.

“Do I want to know why you’re both in the water in your clothes?” she asked.

“I don’t know, do you?” Kieran replied automatically, faerie instinct overriding any fondness he and Cristina now had for each other.

Mark didn’t have much room to criticize because he said promptly after, “Is it the clothes that trouble you about the scene?”

Cristina blushed, or at least Mark thought that she did. Sometimes he forgot how inappropriate faerie japes were among humans, and Cristina had been much more flustered since things had changed between them, however uncertain their exact dynamic was.

She was wearing pajamas, pale blue pants and a top, simple and sensible like everything about her seemed to be, with flats and her ever present medallion.

Kieran gestured for her to join them but Cristina hesitated, hovering by the waterline.

“It’s just water.” Mark encouraged.

“It’s probably freezing.” Cristina corrected, and pulled her stele out of her waistband to draw a heat rune before sliding off her flats and carefully stepping into the water.

Kieran shook his head at the Nephilims’ lack of bravery, of boldness, but he reached for Cristina as she made it to them, twining his arms around her neck easily.

“You’re wet.” Cristina muttered into Kieran’s hair and patting the front of his shirt, which had, true to Mark’s promise, slowly been dampened, then permeated with water.

When they pulled apart Mark could see the shape of Kieran traced in water, darker blue on her shirt.

“So why are you in the water?” Cristina asked.

“Kieran wanted to be in the water.” Mark said. He found it a credit to Cristina that she didn’t ask anymore, like some people would have.

“I have seen little of seas.” Kieran added. “So far this one has been enjoyable, though I think that is the company.”

“Did it take you long to find us?” Mark asked, moving closer to the two of them.

“A while.” Cristina admitted, taking Mark’s hand. Her fingers were warm and he held them tightly. “We have a schedule, did you know that?”

It was a realization that Mark had recently come to as well. Somehow they had, in short order, developed a timetable.

Every few days after their rather contentious reunion Kieran would show up and Mark would let him in and fetch Cristina for backup and they’d sit and talk. And then talking had turned into something more, something not quite decided yet and possibly never to be decided.

It was as fragile as hoarfrost, their tacit agreement not to talk about what was going on. Neither Cristina or Kieran had the heart for something heartless, and Mark didn’t know if he did either, not with them. But, they couldn’t possibly be so delusional as to think it could last.

They stood shivering in the water, Mark’s hand in Cristina’s, Kieran splashing at the waves with a dubious expression before going to Mark, hesitant but stubborn, and leaning on him, chin tucking neatly over Mark’s shoulder.

“You can kiss me.” Mark offered, and wondered if it was a good thing, how deeply drawn the lines had become. There was no longer any assumption, that he was Kieran’s or Kieran was his, ever second was a gift given warily.

But Kieran’s mouth was the same as ever, pressing against Mark’s cheek, then his mouth, a little chapped but warm and hungry. Mark could feel Cristina’s hand still in his, and then Cristina pressed against him, her heartbeat faster even than Kieran’s, as the kiss drew on, until Kieran pulled his blue head down to tuck it back against Mark’s neck, as though he could not stand anymore. Mark wanted more, but he also didn’t want to press Kieran, Kieran who still tasted of night air and starlight, even down on the ground.

Cristina’s eyes were wide and a little sad and wondering, and Mark knew that of them she was most confused by her place here. The perfect Shadowhunter lady, in something decidedly not Shadowhunter or ladylike, at least not ladies of the human type. But something kept her in, and something kept her as silent as the rest of them, whether it was the situation with her family, or affection, or pure human want, Mark knew not.

Still, she leaned up, gave Mark enough time to back away, and then pressed a kiss to his lips, chaste but achingly warm, her hand on his shoulder.

“Was that to be fair?” Kieran asked from under Mark’s chin, his silver eye glinting.

“It was because I wanted it.” Cristina declared, her voice almost steady. She looked as damp as Kieran, though less happy with it, and even the tips of her nighttime braids had gotten wet. Her cotton shirt was sopping where she had leaned against Mark.

Kieran nodded, this made perfect sense to him, and held out a hand to pull Cristina closer into the hug. She settled against Mark’s chest and Kieran’s side and Mark suddenly found himself supporting the weight of both of them. Kieran was the tallest, but he seemed happy to let Mark take the place of loadbearer and drape himself over the others.

“I’m going to fall.” Mark warned. Cristina shrugged but didn’t move and Kieran made a humming sound, either of denial or acceptance, neither of the others could tell.

So Mark fell, collapsing to the sand under the water, a short hard fall, cushioned by the waves. He sat for a second under there, feeling his hair curl in the currents and the water try to lift him up, feeling Kieran and Cristina splash and splutter to their feet above him, before standing back up. 

Kieran’s hair was both plastered to his face and neck and a delightful shade of pale blue green as he rubbed at one eye. Cristina looked like a wet cat as she tried to get sea water out of her nose and their clothes clung to both of them equally.

“I warned you.” Mark said.

“You did.” Kieran admitted, looking less displeased with the abrupt soaking than Mark had expected. “But I’m cold now.” Mark didn’t hesitate this time before wrapping Kieran in his arms. Kieran made a small noise of contentment, and then promptly followed it up with a complaint. “You’re colder still. Cristina Rosales could come over, for she is warm.” he offered casually.

Cristina eyed them with suspicion, wondering if she wanted to get dunked again.

“It would be most appreciated.” Kieran added, and Cristina sighed and slipped under Mark’s arm to join Kieran. She was still warm, like Kieran had said, one of the many benefits of the runes that Mark still regularly forgot to put on, and Kieran, with only some effort curled into her.

He muttered something in the high language of faerie, the one that Cristina was mostly sure was what mundanes would call a proto Indo European language dashed with demonic, because faeries had been around humans for longer than humans could remember. It was a complicated tongue, where tone was important, and it was likely hard to mutter. Still, Kieran managed it.

Mark responded in another language, the harsher one of the Hunt which Cristina was almost certain was a mash of Germanic, Welsh, and a few other components she had yet to identify, and Kieran stood up straight so Mark could kiss him briefly and carefully.

“Princesa?” Kieran offered, the spanish Cristina had taught him so he could at least make fun of her in her native tongue only a little awkward. She was fairly sure she knew what he was willing to give, but she still felt nervous as she nodded and leaned forward. Someone else’s skin on yours, Cristina knew, always felt like runes did but better, at least when you wanted them there. All of the rush and sensation, but without the burning or the pain. Kieran was cold and still wet, but he was also soft, softer than the proud angles of his face suggested, and kissing him was good.

It was all good, at times the sort of thing to make your stomach plummet and heart pound, sometimes so much calmer and safer.

“My rune is wearing off.” Cristina reported, after standing there, together, for a little longer. “You two must be freezing.”

Kieran didn’t seem to want to admit it either way but Mark agreed. “I think we ought to go inside, if we’ve had enough of the ocean for the day.”

“I so dislike that cage of yours.” Kieran said, the distaste evident in his tone as well as his words. He sounded like someone who had just been asked to eat a slug.

“Well, some of us must sleep.” Cristina said. “And you should dry off.”

“I will go, for the sake of both of you.” Kieran agreed. “I would hate to make you worry for the rest of the morrow over my good health.” Kieran couldn’t lie, though Mark knew he wouldn’t mind a little worrying.

Cristina’s smile was wry. “And I would hate to worry. Let’s go, we can head to my room so we don’t wake the children up.”

Mark hadn’t factored that into his plan, trying to sneak back past all his siblings rooms to get to his, and he accepted Cristina’s plan quickly. They waded back up to the beach and shoved sandy feet into shoes, or not, respectively. Kieran was holding Cristina’s hand, and Mark took her other one. She was warm, after all.


End file.
